


Moving On, or Home Again

by delighted



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Related, Episode: s10e11 Ka I Ka 'ino No Ka 'ino (To Return Evil for Evil), Episode: s10e12 Ihea 'oe I Ka Wa A Ka Ua E Loku Ana? (Where Were You When the Rain Was Pouring?), Episode: s10e13 Loa'a Pono Ka 'iole I Ka Punana (The Rat Was Caught Right in the Nest), Episode: s10e14 I Ho'olulu Ho'ohulei 'ia E Ka Makani, Episode: s10e15 He Waha Kou O Ka He'e (Yours is the Mouth of an Octopus), Episode: s10e16 He Kauwā Ke Kanaka Na Ke Aloha (Man is a Slave of Love), Episode: s10e17 He Kohu Puahiohio I Ka Ho'olele I Ka Lepo I Luna, Living Together, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:35:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22957264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delighted/pseuds/delighted
Summary: It feels like home, again. Now that Danny’s there.A selection of moments through season ten, where Steve realizes it’s only home if Danny’s there. Starting with episode eleven, ending with episode seventeen.
Relationships: Steve McGarrett/Danny "Danno" Williams
Comments: 36
Kudos: 226





	Moving On, or Home Again

**Author's Note:**

> This is something a little bit different. I basically binged episodes twelve through seventeen in just a few days, which I ordinarily don’t do, because it messes with my writing. Well. I guess this is what happens... instead of a number of codas, they’ve all kind of melded together into one.
> 
> Title from Michael Kiwanuka’s absolutely gorgeous “Home Again,” which I highly recommend listening to. Bonus points because you can totally imagine Steve playing it.
> 
> If I could, I almost might gift this to myself. I haven’t worked this hard, put this much effort, this many tears into a story... for a very long time, and I’m just so dang proud of myself for pushing through it. But the truth is, it belongs just as much to AlgeriaTouchshriek. I would not have dared attempt this without him. Even then, I would have abandoned it—if not for his support, his encouragement, his... sweet and gentle scolding. And so very much of his time. It is a far, far better story than it would have been without him. My fault entirely if it’s not as good as I might have liked. But it is finished and it is posted (which is more than I dared hope on many occasions), and that is, without a doubt, because of him. 

Steve has one moment of panic, one flash of sheer, unadulterated terror, when he sees Danny’s bags on the floor of his office. One all consuming flooding of _oh god he’s leaving, he’s finally just leaving._ And that should probably tell him everything he needs to know right there. But it shifts when he sees how Danny’s watching him. Just that little bit hesitant, that little bit afraid. And Steve knows him well enough by this point. He knows. Danny only gets that look when he’s actually in need of help.

If he’s being an ass, or planning on bullying Steve, or if he thinks his nose doesn’t really belong, he never looks the least bit unsure. And Steve’s pretty sure most normal people aren’t like that, but he kind of loves that Danny is. And if Danny actually needs him, well there’s not any question Steve’ll step up. There’s just not.

So he does.

And the really adorable thing is, Danny seems surprised by it. As if Steve would turn him away. Thanksgiving, yes, he resisted, because it was obvious the sap was faking it to keep an eye on Steve and okay he bristled a little at that. But Junior’s out more than he’s home lately, and okay, maybe Steve’s gotten used to having a presence other than Eddie’s in the house, and especially now, especially now the ghosts are taking over. It’s nice to have someone there.

Yeah. Okay. It’s nice to have _Danny_ there.

Steve’s already planning to stop for groceries. Because if Danny’s gonna take over his house for the next eight (why does Steve imagine it’ll be closer to ten) weeks, well, he’s damn sure getting some Danny cooking out of it. And the thing with Danny is, you gotta start him off on the right foot. You can’t let him think “Sure, we can order pizza tonight because I know you’re stressed about the work on the house,” because that will turn into any night Danny’s slightly stressed he’ll use Steve’s phone (and more to the point, Steve’s credit card) to order take out. And Steve’s not letting that happen. Not this time.

And maybe he means less “not this time” and more “from now on,” but that would mean admitting he’s already thinking it’d be kinda nice if Danny would just _stay_ , and maybe he’s not quite there yet.

Danny must be feeling bad for taking advantage of Steve, because he doesn’t even blink when he walks into the kitchen shortly after Steve and sees him putting the groceries away. Steve watches the understanding flash through Danny’s eyes.

“I got this, babe. Go swim.”

There’s a little less of that “worried” tone in Danny’s voice than there’d been at Thanksgiving (though honestly not a whole heck of a lot less) and it helps, because Steve doesn't feel he can object, so he does in fact go swim. 

And maybe it’s nice. To be told what to do. To not have every choice he makes be entirely up to him. To feel looked out for. Cared for. And maybe (okay, definitely) it’s nice to come in from swimming to smell lasagna in the oven. And maybe that’s something that stirs a tiny thread of memory somewhere within Steve’s chest. Some soft sense of _home_. 

And maybe that’s nice too.

They settle into a rhythm pretty easily. Which probably says something. 

Danny makes dinner so Steve can swim, and Steve makes coffee and breakfast because Danny’s not really very functional in the morning. And it makes Steve happy to feel useful. To get to help like that. To be needed.

Living with Junior has been great, don’t get him wrong. They’re both that perfectly synchronized, military efficient, well-oiled machine, and it’s comforting, it’s familiar, it’s easy. 

Living with Danny is... less easy. He leaves his towel on the floor, his dirty socks in the hallway. He sits on the counter and peels an orange, leaves the peels in the sink and citrus oil fingerprints on the tile. He rubs up against Steve’s usual schedule. Takes too long in the bathroom, moves too slow when they need to hurry, rushes Steve when he needs to take his time. Is loud when Steve is quiet, and quiet when he’s feeling loud.

But Junior doesn’t _need_ Steve. And maybe... maybe it sometimes feels like Danny does. And maybe... maybe that’s something Steve’s been missing. Something he’s wanted, just not known he’s needed.

He likes it, in other words. He likes it a lot. And he tries to enjoy it, take what he can, while he can. But there’s this thread of loss still woven so tightly around his heart... and this new thread, colored with Danny, starts to tangle with it—because he knows it can’t last. Won’t last. 

Danny’ll go home, eventually. And Steve will be alone. Again.

But for now. He’s here, and even if Steve knows he’ll regret it, even though he tries not to... he’s soft, and he lets himself fall into it. Lets it fill him. Fuel him. Lets it take over the way he’s probably always known it would. Felt it should. 

He’s known it matters to him. Having Danny around. Probably a little too much for "just partners" and he tries not to admit it, but he’s a little touchy on the days Danny’s not at work. And maybe sometimes it’s easy to pass it off as something else—he didn’t get to swim, was out of eggs, Eddie took too long outside, traffic was bad, someone cut him off. But he’s known, deep down, the days he’s at work and Danny’s off—to do something with Charlie, or he’s got an appointment, or just a day off because sometimes they have to stagger those. 

Those days. Steve’s not quite himself.

He’s actually hoped having Danny at the house would make that better, make it easier to take. Make it less a thing.

Instead, it makes it worse. 

He realizes it the day he meets Thomas Magnum.

By the end of the day Steve’s willing to admit he’s a decent guy. But he very much doesn’t want to admit it at first. And maybe that’s just Steve being weird, but the way he shows up, meddling in his crime scene. It might remind him of another crime scene meddler who’d messed with his life and wormed his way in. And it puts Steve wrong footed from the beginning. Makes him defensive. Makes him grumpy. 

So the deck is stacked against Thomas even before the whole PI thing, the whole Ferrari thing, the whole super heroic SEAL thing. But somehow the guy ends up in Steve’s good books. Which leaves Steve with this slightly odd feeling, and he can’t really figure out why.

Except. There’s that thing about his SEAL buddies. Fawning over Steve like that. Their adoration felt... good. And that surprised him. And at first he didn’t look too closely, didn’t try too hard to work out _why_ it might have been the case. Why having two SEALs basically “fanboying,” as the kids say. Why that, which ordinarily he’d dismiss, ordinarily would make him uncomfortable, usually he’d put it all back on his team. Because that’s what Team Guys do, and Thomas knows it. 

But Steve had allowed it, graciously. And not just that. He’d _enjoyed_ it. 

By the evening as he’s swimming, it’s still nagging at him. Why did something he usually protests feel so good? So helpful. So... comforting? His first thought is obvious. His mom. A reminder he _does_ know what he’s doing in the field, on an op—of course that helps ease his wounded sense of self. 

But as true as it is, he’s pretty sure that’s not all.

It takes him till he’s almost back on land before he starts to vaguely be aware that it might have something to do with the blond currently taking up space in Steve’s home as well as his heart. The sulky blond who is maybe starting to drive Steve just a tiny bit crazy over being mopey and hurt and peevish over his recent break up with the mother of his children.

And that. Well, shit, it’s not like Steve hadn’t wanted to warn Danny. Not like he hadn’t seen it coming fourteen different ways. Seventeen different red flags and warning signs had flared, in bright bold neon, and he’d wanted to throw himself on the grenade of the disaster that Danny getting back with Rachel always was gonna be.

But he couldn’t. As much as he’d wanted to, he simply couldn’t. Because Danny would have wanted to know why. And Steve wouldn’t have been able to say “Because _I_ want you instead,” so he would have just seemed like an absolute jerk.

So he’d tried. He’d been supportive. Tried to be encouraging. And for a while it had been okay. Hell, for a while it even looked like they might actually succeed, might finally be the whole, complete family Danny has longed for all these years. And so Steve had succumbed to Danny’s insistence that he date too, which had been absurd and frustrating on so many different levels. (Like, what did the idiot think? They’d go on double dates? Because they have such a great track record with that.)

But now, it’s finally over. Danny has finally admitted it never will work. And rather than being relieved, rather than being glad he tried but now can move on, Danny’s just _stuck_. 

And yeah. He’s taking it out a little bit on Steve. 

Not that Steve minds, exactly. 

Honestly, Steve likes it. He likes grumpy pissy Danny wanting to just stay home a lot better than he’d liked falsely cheerful Danny forcing women and dating on Steve. He didn’t like the way _that_ Danny had treated him. Didn’t like Danny’s focus being on Steve being with someone else. But he does like how it feels when Danny is focused on him. And yes that means liking it when Danny gives him a hard time. 

Which... let’s be fair. It’s how Danny shows his love, especially to Steve. Steve’s always known that. 

But the problem is, it does _bruise_ a little right now. Because yes, it’s nice to have Danny’s focus back on him. But unfortunately Steve’s become needier than that. Because Danny doesn’t really mean it... not the way Steve wants him to. 

Yes, it’s nice to have their playful old married couple banter back. But it winds up feeling a little bit hollow once you’ve realized you wish you actually _were_ an old married couple. 

So yeah. It feels good to be... appreciated. Even if it’s only by two overly enthusiastic fanboys. It’s a balm. And Steve needs it.

If Steve then takes the Ferrari and turns that around on Danny, well. You can’t blame him.

It’s cute, really. How touchy Danny gets about the Camaro. The arguments he has at the ready, about his beloved car being inherently better than the ostentatious Italian show pony. It’s almost as though Danny’s already thought up defenses, dreamed up insults, against all potential competitors. 

Steve stupidly makes the mistake of insinuating just that, and Danny takes the keys from him. One whole week he draws it out. Refusing to let Steve drive. Muttering under his breath things like “so go drive Thomas’s car, why don’t you, if it’s so great.” 

Steve enjoys it immensely. 

Eventually it fades, Danny’s bristly-ness. And Steve would regret that. But it softens into something slightly different from their usual bickering. It almost seems as though it’s taking on a whole new flavor, the longer they’re living together. 

Something... maybe hopeful?

The day Danny gets the call from Charlie’s school proves Steve’s right—maybe something has shifted. Something important.

“Shit. Shit. Shit. _Shit_!” Danny sets his phone down on the dining room table with too much force, runs his hands over his head in distress. 

Steve tries not to flinch. Because he’s learned the hard way it only makes Danny more upset. And completely aside from not wanting to make Danny more upset, he wishes there was something he could do to make it better. Unfortunately, asking what that is will also, he’s learned the hard way, make it worse.

So he sits there, pretending to read something on his phone, sipping the last of his coffee, and very studiously not reacting.

Which, remarkably, turns out to be exactly the right choice. Because once Danny calms down enough to think straight, he smacks Steve on his arm.

“Come on, we gotta go. We have a parent-teacher conference.”

And Steve tries not to choke on the last sip of his coffee, because wait, what? But Danny does not elucidate, does not provide Steve with any details, such as, ohhh maybe why Rachel is not participating, or what happened, or what role exactly Steve is expected to play, or... well, anything. Just as if it’s perfectly normal that when Danny’s kids are in trouble Steve’s expected to step up.

He’s completely delighted by that of course. 

Not delighted that Charlie is in trouble, obviously. Just that it’s not even a question in Danny’s mind _if_ to involve Steve, because, family. And yes he’s made the point before with Grace, but it’s different to make it with Charlie. At least it feels different. Because of that whole Danny not moving back to Jersey with Rachel (when she was pregnant with Charlie) _because-of-_ Steve thing. And few things in his life mean more to him than the fact that Grace considers him family. But this is an entirely new level of involvement, and it makes his heart beat sideways in his chest.

Point being, he’s probably actually glowing as he sits there in the Principal’s office waiting to find out what’s going on. Which probably no parent ever has done but he doesn’t care because he’s being included, and his heart can barely take it. Especially once it turns out he’s the cool, calm, reasonable one for once. There’s some kind of equalizing retribution with that. He feels more like a parent in that moment after Danny storms out of the failed meeting than he probably ever has before in his life.

Of course, Danny’s silent and fuming in the car after, and Steve being Steve, can’t let it go.

“What’d I do this time?” He finally asks, and it sounds even to him like they’re that proverbial old married couple. It warms his heart far more than he’ll admit.

“The _one time_ , babe.”

Okay. That’s helpful, thanks Daniel.

“The one time what, Danny?” He prods, because while he adores Danny’s mopey peevish sulking, it won’t actually get them anywhere unless Steve pushes.

“The one time you didn’t say you were my partner.”

Okay, he’s gotta admit, he did not see that one coming. He had, after all, almost let it slip but stopped himself just in time, corrected it to the unambiguous “we work together” and he’d been proud to have managed that. It’s too easy to just say “partner” because it’s too close to what he wants. 

“Uhh, I, uh, I thought you didn’t like when I did that. Because, you know, people tend to think....”

“Yeah _this time_ it would have been okay.”

“Wait. Why?”

“Because _parenting_ , Steven. You’re gonna be my co-parent here, so being my partner in that would be kind of helpful.”

Uhhh. So. Putting aside the whole co-parenting thing, and ohhhh maybe the concept of asking Steve if that’s what he wants (because of course god yes he does), Steve decides to focus on the more immediate reality of the situation here.

“...She let me stay,” he points out. 

Danny sighs, leaving Steve wondering if there isn't more to it than he’s admitting. “Yeah,” he concedes, reluctantly. “She did.”

“But for the record,” Steve clarifies. “If I’d said I was your partner, you’d have been okay with it.”

Danny huffs a little, shifts in his seat, rolls his eyes Steve’s pretty sure—though he’s watching the road, so he doesn’t look. And Danny doesn’t answer, but Steve still thinks he’ll take that as a “yes.” His heart swells even more, and that glow? Yeah, probably not going away any time soon.

It’s then that Danny comes up with the not-entirely-legal idea to track down Blake’s dad and confront him about having missed the meeting, and Steve knows he should figure out some way of keeping Danny from doing or saying something he’ll regret, but he can’t bring himself to force it, and he’s not totally sure why. It just seems important to let Danny get this anger and frustration out, even though Steve’s pretty certain it’s not really about Blake bullying Charlie _or_ about Luke not showing up for the meeting.

When Danny deflates completely the literal instant Luke says the word “divorce,” Steve knows he was right. And later, as Steve watches Danny bond with Luke over beers and the shared bitter divorce thing, he tries hard not to be jealous, because he knows full well that it’s just as cathartic for Danny as it is for Luke. And while the boys play in the yard with Eddie, the three adults sit and chat—about kids, and being a dad, and it’s nice. It’s more than nice, this co-parenting thing. This being included thing. Steve isn't going to deny he’s wanted this. Been jealous of the connection Danny and Rachel have shared (even without the romantic aspect), that bond of a child—it’s almost... well it reaches deep within Steve to a place he hasn’t liked to admit was lacking. He feels filled by this co-parenting idea in a way he hasn’t admitted he’s felt _empty_ , not even after a visit with Joanie, whom he obviously adores, and who being parted from hurts more every single time.

But Steve’s not so caught up in his own feelings that he misses that talking to Luke is affecting Danny, too. He’s playing the old wise man, imparting his experience to the newly suffering, and it’s shifting something for Danny. Layers are peeling away... some new softness he’s not seen on Danny for a long time is emerging. He doesn’t think Danny sees it yet, but it feels to Steve as though a transformation is beginning. 

That deep metaphysical tiredness that’s clung to Danny since Grace’s accident and has become stronger since this latest, _final_ failed attempt at getting back with Rachel (the reluctant admitting that this time it really is over, truly no more “maybe we’ll try again later”), it has worn like a coat of gloom on Danny. But maybe, Steve thinks, maybe Danny is starting to be free of it. To be less dejected, less drained. Maybe it’s softening to a deeper vulnerability, an openness... some version of “let it all be laid bare, that I might begin to heal.”

Like what Danny says to Luke about feeling a wreck being a good thing, because that’s how you grieve, that’s how you heal. 

It’s the stuff that Danny hasn’t tended to admit to Steve, not even when he has asked. And Steve knows he’s only hearing it now because Danny is trying to help Luke. Because he relates to him. Feels his pain. Sees it reflected in his kid lashing out—the way Grace had.

But if Danny could share that with Steve now, include him in that process when he hasn’t before... well it would mean the world to Steve. He just knows he needs to be careful not to become too invested in the outcome. Not become too invested in what Danny might think about his relationship options now. Because Steve knows it will too easily be too clear what his own thoughts are on the matter. And sharing a home with Danny makes that at one and the same time easier, and a whole lot harder.

“So where are you?” Steve asks, after Luke’s left with Blake, and Rachel’s latest assistant has come to get Charlie. They’re sitting out on the lanai, more beers open between them, pizza ordered—because Steve is weak and pizza makes Danny happy.

“What d’ya mean where am I, dope, I’m right here.” Danny wiggles his feet in Steve’s lap, gives him a goofy grin.

Steve huffs a breath that comes out far more glum than he’d like. “With the stages of grief, I mean. With Rachel.”

Danny stiffens. But doesn’t pull his feet away, for which Steve is grateful. “That was for divorce. I’m done with that.”

Steve sits a little taller. Takes a deep breath. He can’t believe he’s doing this, but he knows he’s right. And he knows he can’t go where he wants to go with this man, can’t really move on from this place where they’ve become stuck, unless Danny keeps processing those stages. He’d started to wonder about it already, but hearing Danny explain it to Luke, he knows for sure. 

Danny’s not ready.

And Steve really wants him to be. So he pushes.

“I think it’s for this too, Danny. Maybe more so because you're losing that sense of family again, and for good this time. But you’re not really letting yourself grieve that loss. I think that’s why....” He falters, just for a moment, but Danny is right there, following him a little too closely. He jumps. 

“That’s why _what_ Steven?”

Steve sighs. “That’s why you’re stuck.”

“Oh you’re psychoanalyzing me now?” He’s bristling. Defensive, reacting, hurt. But Steve knows exactly how he feels. 

“Why not, you’ve done it enough to me.”

Danny sucks in a sharp breath like he’s gonna bite back, and hard. But then he deflates. He shifts his feet like he might withdraw them from Steve’s lap, but he rests his arm over them and Danny stills. 

After a while he takes a slower, deeper breath, lets it out slowly. 

“Yeah. I know, babe. I do. It’s just. I don’t really know what to _do_ about it, ya know? Like when I was young, I’d have gone out and partied. Got drunk. Hooked up. Gotten it out of my system, and then moved on.”

“So do that,” Steve says. Pressing gently down on Danny’s legs in his lap. “Take some time. Hang out at a tourist trap. Have some fun.” He stops short of saying “have a one night stand,” because Danny’s not like that, and because Steve doesn’t want him to be.

Danny laughs, but it’s forced. Strained. “Yeah, babe. I’m not thirty anymore.”

Steve eyes him. It’s true, of course. Neither of them are exactly young. Either of them would feel more than a little creepy trawling bars for young women. (Or men.) But Danny wears it better than Steve does, with his grizzled beard. Danny _could_ get away with it. And maybe there’s a tiny bit of Steve that thinks that if he did... if Danny had a wild one night stand, well maybe it would in a sense be like hitting “reset.” Certainly Danny would regret it, and that would (as mistakes like that always do) push him back into being “himself.” Maybe more so than sitting around Steve’s house moping ever will.

“So what? Pretend. If it’ll help. Otherwise what are you gonna do? Spend the rest of your life hanging out here with me?”

He regrets it as soon as it’s out, because of course that’s exactly what Steve _does_ want.

Danny looks at him, but Steve doesn’t dare meet his eyes. “Yeah. Right. Well maybe I will.” He leaves it hanging long enough Steve almost starts to hope... but no. “I’ve got some vacation days,” Danny says, and this time he does pull his legs off of Steve’s lap. “It’s not spring break yet so the tourists are more my demographic.”

Steve manages a chuckle at that. “Sounds good, buddy,” he says, and he hopes the waver in his tone isn’t as obvious to Danny as it sounds to him.

He knows Danny’s watching closely. Just as surely as he knows that if he meets his eyes, Danny will see it all. Every thought, every longing, every fear, every hope. So he closes his eyes, leans back in his chair, and hopes the pizza comes soon. Just not before he regains some measure of control over his emotions. 

He’s pretty sure Danny keeps an eye on him the rest of the evening, but he doesn’t say anything, and neither does Steve. Pizza helps, as it always does, and by the time they head to bed, Steve almost feels okay about the idea. And then he kinda forgets about it for a few days. 

But the morning Danny sets off for day one of his pseudo spring break, Steve feels sick to his stomach. Somehow, and he has no idea how, he manages to find some stupidly enthusiastic frat boy subroutine buried deep in his programming and he pulls out the backslapping and innuendo long enough to get Danny out the door. Leaning against the kitchen counter after, Steve nearly hyperventilates. As soon as this stupid idea is over, he tells himself. As soon as Danny’s done something and regretted it. As soon as Steve thinks Danny can hear him say “I don’t want you to move on, I want you to stay here, I want this to be your home,” and believe it, he’s gonna do it. He’s gonna finally get over himself and do it. 

He calms his breathing, pours himself a cup of coffee, and heads out back with Eddie, to maybe throw the ball around. Which is when his day turns from nauseating to heart wrenching and he loses himself, almost with relief, in the mysterious case of Eddie’s new trauma trigger, and the easier to focus on hurt Eddie is obviously remembering.

He manages a call to Danny once, and regrets it immediately. Because of course he didn’t _really_ think Danny would do it. Didn’t _really_ think he would hook up with some stranger in a bar. Steve never would have dreamed Danny would actually go through with it. 

He never would have pushed him if he had. 

And yeah. He knows. That makes him an absolute asshole.

It also makes him protectively self-centered enough that he doesn’t call back to check up on Danny, even when it starts to feel borderline worrisome not to have heard from him. Because the truth is, Steve doesn’t want to know details. _Can’t_ know. 

And that is a weakness he will regret for a very, very long time. Because maybe if he had... maybe things would have gone very differently.

As it is, Steve gets the call not from Danny himself (which hurts his heart in ways he’s not prepared for) but from an ER nurse too familiar with the both of them, running interference for the on-call doctor who isn’t, who’s given up fighting Danny over him being admitted for observation for the night. Shock. Bruising. Not much else, other than the ankle he twisted but managed to basically walk off through sheer force of will—one of those emergency adrenaline things that shouldn’t be possible but again and again proves it is.

He gets enough of the story to grasp that Danny had pulled himself through the disaster in a way he’d be proud of anyone else for doing. 

Steve knows Danny well enough to know it won’t be even close to enough.

He signs Danny out, into his care. Promises to follow the correct protocols. Swears on his life.

Danny doesn’t talk the whole way home and Steve doesn’t either. There’ll be time enough for that later.

Steve gets him in the bathroom. Shower on and heating up. Thinks maybe he’ll have to undress Danny, but when he moves to try, Danny pulls so sharply away from him he nearly falls into the wall, so Steve wisely backs away. Leaves the door open. Sits on the floor right outside it. So Danny can see he’s there, but not watching. Sitting guard, in a sense. It’s exactly the thing Danny’s done for him more times than either of them would like to count. 

There’s comfort in it though. Just like there’s comfort in knowing he’ll order pizza. And Danny won’t eat it. But sometime in the night he might get up and have a slice, standing barefoot in the kitchen by moonlight. Maybe wash it down with a shot or three of whiskey. 

But the ritual of pizza. Maybe the smell of it. It grounds him, even if it seems like it does nothing. 

So does having Steve at his side.

They fall asleep on the sofa, the TV on, sound turned low enough Steve doesn’t mind too much, up enough Danny is lulled by it. Well. To be accurate. _Steve_ falls asleep. He’s got his phone set to buzz him awake every hour to check on Danny. And each time he finds Danny awake. But he refrains from commenting. Refrains from speaking at all. That’ll come later.

For now, he won’t push.

He doesn’t push in the morning when he sees Danny didn’t eat any of the pizza. Doesn’t push when Danny sits in front of his coffee but has none. Doesn’t push when Steve comes in from his swim (just a quick one, more so Danny doesn’t think he’s being overprotective by _not_ swimming) to find Danny standing in the bathroom, towel wrapped around his hips, hair falling in his eyes, water dripping on the bath mat. 

He doesn’t insist when Danny asks him to wait in the car while he meets Joanna’s sister, though it nearly breaks his heart.

He dares a simple ask, when Danny gets back in the car. Mostly because it feels like something’s shifted. Maybe some layer of guilt is eased by her reaction, maybe she doesn’t blame Danny like Steve knows he’s feared. Like he blames himself.

But he takes Danny’s “no talking” response at face value. For now. 

He’ll ask again later, of course. Carefully. Gently. As often as it takes. And hope that each time Danny says no, it’ll grow softer. And eventually, hopefully, eventually Danny will talk to him. But it has to be his choice. His timing. Steve knows that just as sure as he knows the rest of it.

Eddie wakes Steve late that night. Insistent whine, pulling at the blanket. Leads him towards Danny’s room. He hears the crying before they’re halfway there.

Steve stands in the doorway. Whether Danny’d left it open or that’s been Eddie’s doing, he doesn’t know. He hesitates.

“Danny....”

The sobs stop, choking. A heavy, stuttering sigh. “I said no talking, Steven.”

He breathes, hoping he’s reading it right. Because it’s not a “go away.” It’s not a “leave me alone.” Steve is familiar with those. 

“I know,” he says, stronger than a whisper so he’s sure Danny hears it. Then he takes three steps into the room, to the bed, and climbs right in with Danny. Presses up against him. Tight. Holds him. 

Danny lets him.

It repeats. Not every night. But most of them. Thank god for Eddie. It’s like he knows. (Which is probably because he does.) Eddie wakes Steve when Danny startles awake from his nightmares, Steve crawls into bed with Danny. Holds him. Lets him cry, lets him shudder against his chest. Lets him stay awake, lets him fall back asleep.

But still he doesn’t talk. And Steve doesn’t really know what that means.

Then one night, Steve wakes to find Danny’s in his bed with him. And his first thought is Danny’d woken from a nightmare and Steve hadn’t been there. But Eddie’s asleep at the foot of the bed, and Steve trusts Eddie more than he trusts most people, so he knows. Danny’d come in on his own. And okay he’s not gonna think too closely about that, he’s just gonna take it for what it is. And they don’t cuddle like they’ve been, with the nightmares and the crying. But maybe that’s okay. Maybe that’s good. Maybe this is something new and he doesn’t know what it means and maybe it won’t mean what he wants it to but it does mean that Danny’s in his bed. And it does mean that Danny is seeking him out. Seeking that comfort. That companionship, on his own. And whatever it means to Danny, it means the world to Steve, and he’ll take it. 

Besides. It helps balance the day times. The times Steve knows he can’t help. The times Danny won’t let him. Like the mornings, when Danny goes running.

Danny only goes running when he’s out of balance. He’s not like Steve, who needs the swimming to stay in balance. Needs it or he’s not himself. Needs it almost like the air he breathes. Like it’s an inseparable part of himself. Like he belongs in water sometimes better than he does on land. Danny’s not a natural runner, but he does use it when he’s not himself. 

He’s gone running every day since he’d been cleared to do it, which had only been a few days after the accident. Steve had wanted to question the doctor’s judgement on that one, but he’d held his tongue. Partly because he knew the routine of it, and yeah—for better or worse—the _self-punishment_ of it, would help Danny get back to himself. 

So he’s been running. Further and further. Longer and longer. Each day since then. And Steve knows it’s helping. He can see it on Danny’s face, maybe not right after the run. He doesn’t get that post-work-out glow. He tends to look annoyed. Or irritated. But at some point later in the day, Steve will notice Danny looks less pained. Less hurt. Less broken. Maybe it’s just a little lightness. A softer edge. A brighter smile.

He has tended, though, to grunt at Steve when he comes in from his run. To not eat the eggs Steve’s made him. To not engage Steve at all in the morning, especially the mornings after their nighttime comfort sessions (as Steve’s taken to calling them in his head). As though he can admit it, admit his need at night, but by day it’s a different matter. By day it matters... more? Or less. He’s not sure. 

Eddie’s getting used to eggs in the morning. 

Which is why Steve feels a flood of warmth when Danny asks where his are. Asks for Steve to make them again. Maybe it’s a small step but it doesn’t feel small. It feels pretty damn big. 

And maybe it feels a little like Danny’s forcing it. Forcing this mood. This cheer. But Steve knows Danny gets to that point sometimes. Where he just starts to push, to force, to fake—till it flips back to being natural. So he goes along with it, following Danny’s lead as closely, as carefully as he can. Bantering lightly. Gently. Lovingly. 

And it feels so fucking good he nearly feels he could fly.

Probably that should tell him a whole lot about his feelings for his partner and housemate. But it’s not like he didn’t already know. So when Danny brings up his house being nearly ready it takes Steve a minute to steel himself to respond. He’s nearly forgotten, to be honest. Been so swept up in so many other things, so many bigger issues. And maybe it’s been him sticking his head in the sand a little. Maybe it’s been some strange flavor of hope that things could just stay as they are. But he really hasn’t wanted to face this.

Once he does though, once he points out Danny should wait till all the work is done, that he should just stay, it’s too easy, really. Danny doesn’t even argue back. Which surprises him. And he’s not sure if Danny reads anything in his tone, but it sure feels to Steve like his heart isn’t just on his sleeve, it’s plastered all over his face. _Don’t go, please don’t go_. And maybe it feels like Danny knows it, and maybe a tiny bud of hope dares to start to open deep within Steve’s chest. That maybe Danny will just simply _stay_.

Their nighttime sessions fade to obscurity soon after that. And of course Steve misses them. Misses the warmth. The reassurance. But he knows it means that Danny is healing. Means he’s moving on... and not just from Joanna. Not just from that fresh hurt. But from the deeper hurt. The years long Rachel hurt. And it’s completely horribly tragically awful. But some tiny part of Steve’s brain thinks maybe it helped. To have something so heartbreakingly simple to mourn. That maybe Danny’s not been mourning the death of someone he barely knew so much as he’s been mourning the death, finally, of that hope... that latent promise, the continual possibility that someday he and Rachel really would figure out how to make it work. 

Which, if you think about it, they did. Just not in the way Steve knows part of Danny will always wish they had.

It’s not the only thing Steve knows about Danny better than he knows himself. It’s etched in Steve’s memory. On his nerves, somehow some key component of his very being. That when Danny has an intuition about someone’s character—not just an opinion or an idea or one of his loudly communicated judgments of someone, usually yelled out at Steve as he barges ahead, bullying, forcing his ideals, his issues, his soft spots. Not those, but instead Danny’s fully formed, utterly calm, no-way-is-he-contemplating-any-opposing-view, just solid, pure, unadulterated _knowing_. When Danny has one of those… Steve listens.

He may cover his bases. Make extra sure he follows protocol. But he never argues. He’ll follow Danny on one of those intuitive leads. He’ll follow him to the absolute end of the line. 

And sometimes, Danny bristles a bit. Expects Steve not to believe him, expects him to argue back. He anticipates resistance, in that once-bitten way he sometimes gets if he’s tired or hungry or otherwise not himself. But not today. Today he doesn't make a fuss, doesn't say “thank you for listening to me this time,” doesn’t acknowledge that Steve is one hundred percent behind him. Doesn't even say “see, told you” when he turns out to have been right about the ambassador’s wife.

The truly remarkable thing isn’t even that Danny doesn’t get defensive. It’s that Steve feels it. Feels Danny’s recognition of the moment Steve listens and believes. Trusts Danny so completely. Danny may not say anything, but his realization of Steve’s trust radiates from him like a beacon Steve thinks he could navigate by. And he’s pretty sure they both realize it means something. Means a lot. 

So he’s even more glad than he’d already been that he changed their Valentine's plans that night.

The truth is... yes, he and Brooke have been hanging out. But it’s not like that. There’s just something very comforting about her. She is utterly unlike anyone Steve’s ever dated. She’s utterly unlike anyone Steve’s ever been friends with. And maybe, at his age, there’s something magical in that. She fills a space in his heart he hadn’t even known he’d had. Sort of like an older sister. A best female friend. But not one who competes with him, not one who draws out that side in him. One he can be _easy_ with. Not have to be strong for, not have to be strong against—he’s not really sure how to explain it except that it is gratifying. And comforting. And it’s helped. Helped to have someone to talk to. About life. About Danny. 

And yes. It has occurred to him that it’s a little bit that she’s a mom. He’s never dated a mom before. He’s never dated a _parent_ before. (Insomuch as he and Danny haven’t actually dated, though yes it has felt like it at times.) But yeah. He gets some of the care, the compassion that Danny so exemplifies. Steve gets that from Brooke. And yes, it’s a poor substitute for what he really wants, and he knows it. Which is why he’d been open with her from the beginning. About wanting to be friends. For her part, she enjoys Steve’s company for the connection it gives her to a non-parenting world. So it works out for both of them.

The thing is, and maybe it was dumb of him. But he’d kinda thought Danny would want to ignore Valentine’s Day. So he and Brooke had agreed to go out somewhere fancy and make fun of all the couples trying way too hard to have the perfect evening. But Danny’s reaction to the idea of Steve having a date had done something funny to Steve’s heart. And maybe he’s imagining things. Maybe he’s... well hadn't Danny seemed maybe just a little bit... jealous? 

Maybe Steve’s being fanciful. But he just couldn’t go through with it after that. He’d barely gotten out “Hi,” when he called her to ask if they could change plans, and she’d read it in his tone. She’s the one who suggested movie night. Because it’s comfortable for them both, Steve and Danny. And they could include the others easily as well.

God she’s good for him. He wishes he’d known her years ago. Maybe then he wouldn’t be in this frustrating situation. Maybe then he’d have Danny in his bed for real each night—and not just in the slinking around after dark pretending it’s something it’s not kind of way.

So when they settle on the sofa for the movie (Danny having of course gone directly for Steve’s spot, leaving him no choice but to squeeze in between Brooke and Danny), and his hand falls heavily across Danny’s chest, well maybe he lets it dangle lower than he should. And when Danny pats it playfully with his own hand, something invisible and unknown prompts Steve to grab it, to hold on, squeezing just that reassuring little bit, feeling probably it means more and maybe Danny will know. 

And when Danny doesn’t let go, when he holds on tighter, well Steve’s breath hitches—and of course Brooke’s noticed, and she leans against him warmly, encouragingly, and yeah, it helps. His breathing slows, he melts a little further into the sofa, and Danny settles with him, and probably it’s the best Valentine’s Day he’s had.

Danny lingers in the living room as everyone says their goodbyes. So he sees when Steve only kisses Brooke on the cheek, sees when she whispers encouragingly in his ear, nodding not entirely subtly towards Danny. And once she’s gone, and Steve turns, he sees Danny watching him quizzically. But he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t meddle, doesn’t ask why Steve didn’t kiss his girlfriend more passionately, doesn’t ask why he didn’t walk her to her car. He just wraps an arm around Steve, walks with him up the stairs, hugs him good night, and leaves him standing in the hallway, wondering what exactly his life is right now.

He’s not left wondering for very long, because they get a call from an old friend, and it changes everything. 

There’s just something about Harry. 

Something Steve’s never quite been able to put his finger on. The energy is somehow charged when he’s around. Something more electric. Some heightened something. And maybe it’s just that enigmatic super spy thriller excitement. His unique brand of enjoying absolutely everything. The way he flirts with everyone.

The way he flirts with Danny.

Maybe it’s the way Danny responds. Somewhere between amused and actually interested. Steve never really thinks Danny _would_ , though he definitely thinks Harry wouldn’t hesitate if he did. But it always feels to Steve like there’s this thread of possibility, every time Harry is near. And it’s always felt just a little bit like it might light a fire under this thing between them. Between Steve and Danny. Like somehow Harry could be that stray ember that finally ignites the dry, brittle, potential that is the layers and layers of unspoken innuendo, the touches, the nights spent too close. Not close enough.

The way Danny stands as he listens to Harry’s bragging. The way he bristles at his ego. It’s different from how he is with Steve. There’s no edge to that anymore. And it’s not so much an _edge_ with Harry. It’s more a rough surface like the side of a matchbox.

Maybe this time something will actually ignite. 

The fireworks are nothing if not symbolic. Nothing if not illustrative of what could be.

Danny stays by Steve’s side that night. Doesn’t, as he’s done in the past, gravitate towards Harry. He stands by Steve for the fireworks, then stays close to him after. Sitting on the arm of his chair once they’ve gone inside. His favorite perch. And it’s been some time since he’s done that. Been a while since he dared.

Harry watches.

Harry always watches. Always notices. It’s like he has a catalog of their interactions. He smiles knowingly at Steve. Winks—actually winks—when Danny gets up to grab more beers for him and Steve. Not for Harry. Not for their host, and okay he’s drinking scotch. But still. Somehow, for some reason, tonight, of all nights. Danny seems only to have a thought for Steve. And it’s not even a thought so much as a reflex. Like you might with a spouse. Grab them a drink without thinking.

“You seem closer,” Harry offers. Hinting, Steve knows. Fishing for details. Maybe thinking this will be the time Steve finally admits “yes, we’re a couple.”

Steve knows his eyebrows go up. Starts to say “I’m as surprised as you by that,” but Danny's back and he shushes. 

“Talking about me?” Danny asks. And it would be playful. Should be. But it’s not. There’s some odd tension beneath the question. As though he honestly wants to know. As if it means something a whole lot more than it has before if the answer is “yes.”

Steve expects Harry to diffuse the situation like he might an incendiary device. 

But he doesn’t.

“I was noticing you two seem closer.”

Danny takes a long drink of his beer. “Yeah. We’ve been living together.”

And Harry reacts much as you might expect. Sharp surprise muted almost immediately by _of course_ and _finally_.

Steve knows _he_ looks surprised. It’s not as though it’s not true. But to leave it there, sounding like that.... Well, it’s misleading to say the least.

Harry holds out his drink. “Well cheers to that, chaps. And if I might say, it’s about bloody time.”

And still Danny doesn’t move to correct him. Simply leans more solidly against Steve, drinking his beer and—when Steve chances a glance at him—looking very much like the cat with the cream.

“Thank you. And yeah. It is, isn’t it.”

Nothing more is said of it, either by Harry or by Danny. And Steve doesn’t dare push it.

It’s not till they’re home. And Danny’s still got that relaxed strut going. That sexy, weekend, vacation, relaxed _ease_ that he gets far too rarely. The one that makes Steve go soft and tingly at the same time. The one that makes it so much harder for Steve not to admit how he feels, because when Danny’s like that it always feels like _he’s_ about to admit it too.

Only. This time. He basically has.

To Harry, admittedly. And it’s possible that’s just teasing. Or Danny messing with Harry. Or... with Steve. But Steve’s not prepared to swear that’s the case. Because there’s just something about the way Danny’s looking at him.

“It’s true,” he says, once they’re in the kitchen, grabbing water bottles, thinking about some more food maybe.

“What’s true, buddy?” Steve makes himself ask. He knows. He knows what he wants it to be. Doesn’t dare assume. Or maybe he needs Danny to say it.

“We’re closer.”

Steve stops breathing. Danny moves closer, as if he needs to illustrate the point. Because his partner is an idiot. Which is true and it’s not.

“Please breathe, Steven.”

Steve sucks in a breath.

“I’m going to kiss you now. So you need to be breathing while I do that because I’m not gonna hold you up if you pass out.”

And okay that’s the oddest and most clinical advance Steve’s ever experienced. But he nods, and takes a deep breath to indicate he’s complying.

“Good. That’s good.”

Danny’s _right_ in his space now. Right there. Right up against him... oh god, right here, right in his arms, in his face... oh god, _his lips_....

And fortunately Danny was kidding about not holding him up because Steve nearly does stagger under the weight of it, the heat of it. It’s the most completely overwhelming thing he’s ever felt. And he wants more.

“You should let Eddie out.”

_How is he clear-headed?_ “I should what?”

“Let the dog out you goon. Because I plan on moving this to your bed and I do not want a furry snout interrupting me once I have you naked.”

And really saying things like that is _not_ the way to get Steve to be functional and comprehending.

“Uh. Right. Yeah. Of course. Eddie. Come!” And he’s an idiot because of course Danny sniggers.

“Babe you are adorable when you’re flustered. I shoulda done this ages ago.”

_Yes, Daniel, you should have_ , Steve manages not to say, but he thinks it really really loudly.

Steve manages, somehow, to get Eddie out, and maybe he does his business maybe he doesn’t, Steve doesn’t exactly have the mental blood flow to be able to determine that, but he gives him a good boy pat on the head anyway, and then turns and shoves Danny towards the stairs. He’s chuckling warmly, and Steve feels the vibrations in Danny’s chest through his hands and oh god. What a weird thing to be thrilled about, and it’s not like he hasn’t felt that before, what with how often they touch, but after the past few months, feeling Danny laugh like this. Warm. Happy. Contented.... Even without the tantalizing edge of hunger beneath it all it would still feel like the most amazing thing he’s felt in far far too long.

There’s this moment in the hall. They both feel it. They’ve gotten used to coming this far together, after all. Without realizing he’s doing it, Steve finds he’s reached down and he and Danny are holding hands. He gives a reassuring squeeze, and Danny grins up at him. Tugs gently.

“Come on, babe. It’s time.” And Danny leads Steve the rest of the way down the hall to his room.

Steve’s spent a lot of time trying not to imagine what this moment would be like. Of course that only means he’s had threads of it push through his consciousness, despite willing himself not to torture himself that way. He loses all those threads now, in the luminescent reality of the man beside him.

Danny can’t seem to stop smiling. Little huffs of laughter bubble up from some magical deep wellspring of joy that Steve thinks he probably hasn’t tapped into in years, and it fills Steve’s heart—and his eyes. Which, crying certainly wouldn’t have been part of Steve’s fantasy for his first time with Danny, but somehow he can’t imagine it any other way. 

At first Danny wipes the tears away. Then he kisses them. He’s got Steve on the bed now, which is fascinating because Steve doesn’t remember that happening. He’s so aware, so focused, on Danny’s hands, Danny’s lips. His hips pressing into him. His feet tangling with Steve’s almost like he’s trying to get Steve’s pants off with his toes, and part of him wants to laugh, because it’s clumsy and awkward, but he’s never cared less about how things might look. He’s never cared this much purely about how this feels. It would probably seem like a revelation if it weren’t that he’s so completely overwhelmed by the fact of Danny, Danny, Danny. 

So it leaves him a bit reeling when Danny climbs off him to get his pants off the harder way (the toe thing having obviously failed). Then he’s back, tugging at Steve’s shirt, but the thing is, Steve can’t seem to understand how buttons work, which is fine because Danny swats his hands away and gets the shirt at least undone. He doesn’t seem bothered about leaving it on, though, just wants that skin exposed and _oh_ Steve is definitely not complaining when Danny’s callused hands splay across his chest, forceful, possessive. Claiming. But also somehow incredibly soothing. Like it’s somehow, finally, _right_.

Danny’s still dressed though, and Steve wants to say something about that, but words don’t seem to work the way they should, so he grabs at Danny’s shirt and that seems to get the point across, because Danny pulls it off over his head, so that helps. Ohhh except now it’s bare skin on bare skin and Steve’s need surges, and oh fuck he’s forgotten it can be like this. Which is totally inaccurate because he’s not at all sure it’s ever been like this. There’s just something about that skin contact that brings out something more than needy, something almost desperate. Elemental. Pure. Close to drowning and being set aflame at the same time. He can’t breathe, but he’s not sure he wants to, not sure it matters.

Evidently it matters to Danny.

“What did I say about breathing, huh babe?” He asks. And he laughs softly, sits up off of Steve’s chest, uses the pause to get his own pants off, then lies down on the bed next to Steve and turns towards him. “It’s so much better if you don’t pass out till the end, I promise.”

Steve gulps air in at that, then chokes out a laugh. He brings a hand up to where Danny’s ridiculous hair has fallen out of its impossible slicked back hold and into his eyes.

“How’d we finally get here?” He asks softly. Afraid to know the answer.

Danny closes his eyes tight. “I really don’t think we want to relive that. Can we just take it from here and... move on? Move forward?”

The lightest puff of air escapes Steve’s lips. It’s not a laugh, not a huff, not a chuckle. It is an acknowledgment. Awareness. “Yeah, buddy. As long as... you know. I really like it when you’re here. It’s home, you know? It’s _home_ when you’re here.”

Danny raises himself up on an elbow. Looks down at Steve with those pale blue eyes. So familiar, and yet looking utterly new like this. For a moment, Steve thinks there’ll be some big speech, some grand transformation, something monumental. But Danny just smiles, touches Steve’s cheek with his hand. Leans down to capture his lips in a slow, gentle, loving kiss. “Yeah,” he says, onto Steve’s lips. “Me too.”

It’s the last coherent thing either of them say for a very long time.


End file.
